


hope's end

by opalitegalaxy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Minor Injuries, Reader-Insert, spoilers for chapter 115
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 09:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20355958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalitegalaxy/pseuds/opalitegalaxy
Summary: With each passing second you noted his breathing became shallower, slower, the undeniable death rattle tainting each laboured inhale-exhale. You swallowed thickly, trying vainly to dismiss the choking lump that seized your throat. Now was not the time to let yourself fall to grief, but suppress and compartmentalize and ignore the hysteria clawing at the nape of your neck that screamed for acknowledgment. The situation required, demanded, you act like a soldier, not a grieving wife.He always hated it when you cried, anyway.





	hope's end

**Author's Note:**

> Bro. It's been five chapters since we've seen Levi. Isayama.. WYD?!
> 
> Anyway, consider this me processing my inevitable grief in advance. Enjoy!

_How... pathetic._

You should've scolded your inner monologue for such a disparaging remark, but the cruel reality was that it stood rather true. He looked pathetic. Small. Weak and vulnerable in a way you'd never known of him. It was an altogether unsettling scenario, to have the roles reversed. You'd never quite been fragile, but they didn't brand him _'Humanity's Strongest'_ for nothing, after all; he'd always been the nurturer, the protector, strong and unwavering. His arms were a security blanket in times of uncertainty. The safety of the sacred walls, personified.

Still, you smiled, a reassuring expression for your own benefit rather than his own.

"You know, you're gonna look kinda hot when you're all healed up."

Levi scoffed, voice gravelly and strained as he spoke, but the sarcastic lilt was unmistakable. At least some things never changed. "I'm on my deathbed and you're still thinking about getting fucked. How typical."

You snorted, shoulders hitching in free, unrestrained laughter. He's on his deathbed and he's still making you laugh.

"I'm serious. Women love facial scars, myself included."

"Oh yeah? First I'm hearin' of it." The blood spewed from his lips like the wild sea waves as he broke into a sudden cough, shivering violently, crimson startling against pure white skin. The playful tone was gone once he'd gathered the strength to speak again, deposed by utter exhaustion. "If I'd have known, I'd have taken a knife to my face myself years ago."

"Yeah? You'd go that far to impress me?"

"You and all those other women you mentioned." His lips twitched, ever so slightly, the ghost of a trademark smirk gracing you for a split second. You scoffed, smoothing back his damp bangs away from his eyes, repetitively combing your fingers through the inky black strands in attempt to banish the filth matting them together.

"Never had you pegged for a dirty old man, Levi. It doesn't suit you."

With each passing second you noted his breathing became shallower, slower, the undeniable death rattle tainting each laboured inhale-exhale. You swallowed thickly, trying vainly to dismiss the choking lump that seized your throat. Now was not the time to let yourself fall to grief, but suppress and compartmentalize and ignore the hysteria clawing at the nape of your neck that screamed for acknowledgment. The situation required, demanded, you act like a soldier, not a grieving wife.

He always hated it when you cried, anyway.

"Alright, cut the bullshit. How's it look?"

Just as you opened your mouth, he erupted again, the incessant hacking wrenching his entire body, painfully agitating the injuries that lingered beneath the surface. You gently placed a hankerchief to his lips in attempt to respect his characteristic need for cleanliness. Straight-faced, vacant-eyed, refusing to pay any mind to the sickening warmth spilling onto your fingers.

_Suppress. Compartmentalize. Ignore. Deny. Deny. Deny._

You leaned down to drop a careful kiss to his temple, once more selfishly acting for your own benefit than his. The taste of iron was poison on your lips, bitter like the lies you told - to him and yourself.

"You're gonna be just fine."


End file.
